


Charitable

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24935332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Adam can’t leave his mom alone for five minutes.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	Charitable

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

His mother calls, “Welcome home,” as soon as he’s through the front door—Adam hums a note of acknowledgment by sheer force of habit and kicks his way out of his shoes. He sheds his jacket onto the hanger, but the hat stays on—it’s been getting steadily colder, and they never seem to get enough ahead on bills to be able to fix the heater. At least the new coffee machine can get a cup as close to boiling as possible without actually burning his tongue. Rubbing his hands to warm up, he beelines straight for the kitchen.

He stops halfway through the living room, because there’s a scrawny blond sitting at the kitchen counter with half its face missing. Exposed circuitry splutters a fluorescent blue in the dim evening light. The android quirks a broad, lopsided grin that looks straight out of a horror movie. Then Adam’s mother weaves around it and places a steaming mug— _Adam’s favourite mug_ —right between the android’s damaged hands. 

It looks down at the coffee with what can only be described as deranged glee. Adam’s fairly certain androids can’t even drink. While the android inhales the fumes, Adam’s attention jerks to his mother. He asks hoarsely, “What’s _that_?”

The android’s head snaps up. It jovially chirps, “Ralph!” Then it’s pushing back from the table—Adam’s mother steps away just in time to avoid being bashed by the chair. The android darts around at the speed of light and is suddenly in front of Adam, arms flying open, and Adam doesn’t have the time to defend himself—he’s abruptly ensconced in steel-stiff arms. “It’s nice to meet you!” The android croons over Adam’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Ralph doesn’t hurt humans anymore.” When it pulls back, it stares right into Adam’s eyes, and doesn’t seem to recognize the abject terror there. “Ralph didn’t know there were good humans, but there are such good humans!”

Letting go of Adam, ‘Ralph’ flitters back to the kitchen. The third-person speech isn’t at all helping Adam’s growing sense of unease. Ralph sidles right up to Adam’s mother and gushes, “Rose is a very, very good human.”

Adam’s mother gives the android a fond smile and pats its head, apparently unperturbed by its obvious instability. She tells it like a skittish puppy or a beloved toddler, “Go on, sit back down, Ralph.”

Ralph instantly obeys. It plops itself back into its seat and leans over the coffee cup, still watching Adam with wide, too-interested eyes. The scarred one is incredibly disconcerting. Adam can’t help himself. 

He blurts, “Mom! We can’t help any more androids across the border—it’s too risky!” And she knows that. And he probably shouldn’t say he knows in front of Ralph, but he can’t even _pretend_ he’s okay with it. 

His mother waves her hand dismissively and tells him, “Oh, don’t worry, we won’t be doing that. Ralph wants to stay and help with our garden. Isn’t that sweet?”

“Ralph’s an excellent gardener,” Ralph chimes in, perking up like a preening cat. Ralph looks like it had a fight with a rose bush and lost. Badly.

Adam groans. It’s a struggle to keep his head from falling into his hands. The oven chimes, and his mother tells him, “That’s dinner. Sit down, Adam.”

“Ralph helped cook it.”

“He certainly did.”

“It’s going to be succulent!”

Adam’s eye twitches. He’s sorely tempted to grab the broken android and physically drag it out of his house.

But then his mother sets a fresh pie on the table, and he begrudgingly decides to do it later.


End file.
